


Comforting Thoughts

by PuppetMaster55



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, So is Shiro, but Lance is better at hiding it, use of Steven Universe songs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9575219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppetMaster55/pseuds/PuppetMaster55
Summary: Unable to sleep, Lance finds Shiro training while wandering the castle.





	

Lance couldn't sleep, Pidge having finally discovered who had stolen their headphones. Without the music to fill the silence, the night felt so much lonelier. He spent what felt like forever laying in bed before conceding that he wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon, and would rather spend a sleepless night exploring the castle than laying in bed.

So far, he had discovered no less than three ballrooms, five dining rooms, and what he suspected might have been either a nursery or an armory for small people. Granted, he had also found the same thing for something twice his size, so he was more inclined to call in an armory than anything else.

He was leaving the fourth ballroom behind when he spotted an open door, the light inside already on. Brow furrowing, Lance glanced down either side of the hallway before warily approaching it. While they were pretty sure that Allura and Coran did, in fact, sleep, it still was a mystery as to _where_ Coran's room was, or when either Altean slept – or for how long, even. The question of Altean sleeping patterns was a matter of huge debate between Pidge and Keith, and Lance, loathe as he was to admit it, was curious himself. Enough to peer into whatever room he had discovered.

Grunting sounds came from within, along with the sound of someone hitting something. Lance paused at the doorway, peering around the corner of the door. The room – a gym, with all the rough makings of one – had a punching bag floating in the air, which Shiro was hitting and kicking and jabbing at. Shiro, dressed in full armor, made Lance feel underdressed in his pajamas.

Lance had never actually seen Shiro fighting, always getting taken out by the gladiator bot long before Shiro got a chance. He had never liked direct combat, didn't like the ugly, brutal way that came with fistfights.

But Shiro wasn't like that. He moved brutally, moved swiftly, but it was also... elegant, almost, in a brutish sort of way. Shiro moved from one hit to the next with what Lance knew secondhand to be ruthless grace. There was a kick and a jab and a spin on the heel ending with a sharp elbow, and Lance was reminded of dancing. Not ballroom dancing, not like the movies, but something much more modern.

Lance hated fistfights, but he loved dancing, loved the dialogue and movement between two individuals.

Shiro slipped on a turn, his heel not quite catching on the floor, and he stumbled. Lance felt himself wince when Shiro let out a cry so full of rage and fear, and flinched when Shiro, wide-eyed, lunged at the punching bag with a glowing arm, jabbing – no. No, Lance realized with a harsh twist of the gut. Not jabbing. Stabbing.

Shiro was stabbing the bag, was ripping and tearing it apart. The pieces that once made up the punching bag fell to the floor before the whole thing glitched out of existence. Shiro watched it happen, chest heaving, before something snapped. He fell to his knees, the glow of his arm fading away. Shoulders shook, and Lance felt like a voyeur, felt like he shouldn't be there.

“Shiro?”

Just because he felt like he shouldn't be there, didn't mean that he wasn't needed there.

Shiro started, squaring his shoulders and moving to stand. “Lance. What–”

“I couldn't sleep.” Lance stepped into the room. “Pidge found out I borrowed their headphones and now I...” He shrugged. “Never realized how quiet space was.”

“I hadn't noticed.” Shiro straightened up, giving Lance a concerned stare. “So you were exploring?”

“It's a big castle.” Lance shrugged, meeting Shiro's stare with one of his own. “I have found four separate ballrooms and an armory for kids. Or a nursery. It's hard to tell with the Alteans.”

Shiro huffed a laugh. “That sounds about right.”

“So I know why I'm awake,” Lance reasoned, moving into the room, moving closer to Shiro. “But what about you? It must be uncomfortable going to sleep wearing all that.”

Shiro glanced away, making Lance frown. “That's not important.”

“It seems pretty important.” Lance's frown deepened. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Shiro hesitated, and Lance winced. “That's not important.”

“Shiro.” Lance reached out, concern heavy on his face. “You're hardly the first person to lie to me. Come on. Tell me the truth.”

“It's not important to you.”

“Sleep deprivation is always important.” Lance nodded, knowingly. “It can mess people up, man. Physical health and mental.”

Shiro closed off when Lance mentioned mental health. Lance nodded, starting to move.

“Hey, come with me.” Lance left the gym, heading for the main training room. “I've got an– dude. Do you want help or not?”

Shiro glanced at the gym before following Lance through the halls. “What's your idea?”

“So my Gramma, she likes to watch old cartoons. You know: Gravity Falls, Steven Universe, all those old DC shows.”

“I don't know any of those.”

“Most people don't,” Lance admitted, stepping into the training room. He walked over to the wall, tapping on the panels. He grabbed two headsets, spinning on the ball of his foot to face Shiro. “But that one I mentioned? Steven Universe? It's actually pretty neat. A bit hokey by modern standards, but some things stuck with me. One of them was a song.”

Lance held out a headset, eyebrows raised expectantly. Shiro glanced from the headset to Lance, snatching it out his hands. “How will a song help?”

Putting on his own headset, Lance sat down, crossing his legs. His hands came together on his lap, fingers and thumbs forming a circle. “Put it on, and sit across from me.”

Shiro sighed, slipping the headset on. “Fine.”

“Close your eyes. Empty your mind. Focus on the feel of your heart.” Lance's voice was calm, and he was pleased to see Shiro mirroring him, shoulders relaxing. Lance closed his own eyes, focusing on a blank stage. He felt a buzz as the headsets switched on, a gentle settle of the mind as his and Shiro's minds fell together. He breathed out, opening his eyes as Shiro gasped in surprise. “Here comes a thought.”

The stage was a soft blue world, all around them. A pulsing yellow butterfly fluttered nearby, touching the fingertips of Lance's right hand briefly before fluttering off. To his right, there was a younger him, talking with his family.

“Take a moment to think of just, flexibility, love, and trust,” Lance sang, watching the scene play out as the butterfly moved closer. “Take a moment to think of just, flexibility, love, and trust. Here comes a thought,” the butterfly landed on Lance's sister, who burst out in anger, storming away from the younger Lance, “that might alarm you. Something you did that failed to be charming.” More butterflies appeared, starting to flutter around the younger Lance. “Words that you said are suddenly swarming and oh, you're losing sight, you're losing touch.” The butterflies swarmed, blocking the young Lance from view – and his view from his sister, Mari. “All these little things seem to matter so much. That they confuse you. That I might lose you.”

Lance watched Mari stomp in place, yelling at the lone butterfly.

“Take a moment and remind yourself,” Lance continued, watching Mari start to cry, the anger in her deflated, “to take a moment and find yourself. Take a moment and ask yourself if this is how we fall apart.” Mari turned toward the swarm going after Lance, and reached a hand out, into the swarm of butterflies. “But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not.” Mari pulled younger Lance out of the swarm, pulled him into a hug. “It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. And it was just a thought.”

Lance glanced at Shiro. He prodded along, guiding Shiro into singing himself. Shiro glanced at his arm, glanced at his right. Images appeared, of him at the arena.

“Here comes a thought that might alarm me,” Shiro began, and Lance gave him a fond, encouraging smile. Shiro had an amazing singing voice. “Something I did that failed to be charming.” The other Shiro fought in the arena, tearing into the other fighters, leaving them broken, bleeding, dead. “Things that I did are suddenly swarming, and oh, I'm losing sight. I'm losing touch. All these little things seem to matter so much, that they confuse me.” Shiro turned his gaze onto his arm, onto the glowing, blood-coated arm of the other Shiro. “That I might lose me.

“Take a moment and remind myself,” Shiro continued, clenching his hand into a fist, “to take a moment and find myself. Take a moment and ask myself if this is how I fall apart.

“But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not.” A soft smile passed across Shiro's face. “It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay.”

“I'm here,” Lance joined in, harmonizing with Shiro. “I'm here. I'm here. And it was just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm here. And it was just a thought.”

Lance settled back, letting Shiro end the song himself, the most important mantra he would ever need. “Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust. Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust.”

Shiro nodded at himself. Taking off the headset, he nodded at Lance. “Thank you. That did help.”

Lance grinned, pointedly not looking at the butterfly that landed on his shoulder. “Anytime.”

 


End file.
